It's Everything
by OutOfTheConfinesOfFear
Summary: A little one-shot full of reasons. "It's the way he plays her body with the skilled ease of an undiscovered prodigy, the way he cradles the arch of her spine, rests his chin in the curve of her neck and strums her ribcage." Rated for safety because I am fairly new and I am not going to lie, I am a little scared of the rating system.


Hello again... I still don't own or have any affiliation with Castle but if anything changes and I wake up tomorrow as someone who does I will let you know.

Just a little one-shot full of reasons.

Scared of the rating system and not sure about how far is too far or not far enough, so if any of you read this and think it should have been a different rating then please let me know. Thanks.

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It's the way he plays her body with the skilled ease of an undiscovered prodigy, the way he cradles the arch of her spine, rests his chin in the curve of her neck and strums her ribcage. It's the way he turns her into a beautiful melody.

It's the way he finds wonder in her hair and the delicate skin behind her knee and the shape of her wrists. The way he moulds her waist with fingers and thumbs, smooths his palms over her hips with a strong and fragile touch.

It's the way he wraps his fingers around her ankle when he pulls away her boots. It's the way he brushes the rest of world off her skin.

It's the way he slides the tie from her hair and his eyes flicker to catch the way the curls settle into the valley of her shoulder blades, tangle behind her ears and sweep out over her chest. It's the way he hooks his thumb under the little curl that falls over her brow and smooths it back into line.

It's the way he pulls her close. It's the way he slams her into the wall. The way he spreads her across his desk. His lounge. His floor.

It's the way he cradles her head in his palm and wipes the make-up from her eyes, the way he follows the contours of her face with his wrapped thumb, sweeps over her cheek bones and leaves her skin clean. It's the way he kisses her forehead and lays her down. The way he looks at her when she is bare, the way his eyes shimmer before he buries her beneath his own flesh.

It's the way he asks her every day.

It's the way their footprints look, spaced and even and always together. It's the sound of his breathing. It's the way his body surrounds her, the way it fights and protects her, the way it gentles her and warms her like she was the piece of him that got away.

It's the way he shatters her and lays her down, the way he kisses her temple and breathes her in.

It's the way he presses her into the mattress. The way the muscles of his back ripple beneath her nails. It's the way he stretches her arms above her head and presses their tangled knuckles into the headboard. It's the way her body chases his.

It the way he tastes her skin, the way he maps her body. The way he tugs her along with gentle kisses, pulls her with him towards the edge. It's the way he flings her over. The way it's violent and then it's gentle again.

It's the way he asks her every day.

It's the coffee and the whispers and the way he laughs when she laughs. It's the way she is sure he wasn't listening but thinks he may have heard. It's the promises she believes.

It's the way he fights her like he is about to lose it all. The way he screams at her, the vicious words and harsh truths and the way he tears her to shreds. The way he burns her. It's all the ways that only he can break her.

It's the way he rages through fire to save her. It's bullets and bombs and staying. It's "I love you" and "Stay with me".

It's the way he covers her mouth to stifle her screams. It's the way he tears his own name from her throat. The way his breath runs hot over her ear. It's his chest on hers. It's the way he tastes like her.

It's the bad movies and good books, silly battles and huge egos. Its "I win at everything!" and "get over yourself!" It's calling in the red headed judges.

It's jealously and possessive passion, skittering buttons and torn lace and bite marks. It's scratches and bruises and "mine".

It's terrible jokes and her laugh. It's glaring and eye-rolling and The Look. It's teasing and fumbling and flustered. It's raw and needy. It's the smell of him on her skin. His hair, his eyes, his heart. It's the kitchen, the shower, the front door.

It's stubbornness and childishness and defiance on both ends. It's entirely stupid. It's cooking and laundry and "Yes, Castle, your hair looks fine". It's case-work and writing and all forms of inspiration and then it's "if you put that in a book, I will shoot you."

It's Alexis and "she likes you" and "your good with her" and "promise me you will look after her" and "you're not the only one who loves her, okay Castle?" and "okay".

It's the way their love runs tangible, thick and unrelenting through all the secret places between him and her. It's everything, but it's mostly him. He's everything.

It's the way her name sounds when it drips from his lips. It's Beckett and Kate and Katherine and Mrs Castle.

It's the way he asked her every day.

It's why she said yes.

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Just letting you know that reviews make me smile...

Thanks for reading x


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